


The Scent of Cedar

by dustandroses



Category: NCIS
Genre: Character Study, Community: tamingthemuse, F/M, Gen, Implied Bondage, Implied Het, implied pegging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-11
Updated: 2012-06-11
Packaged: 2017-11-07 12:02:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/430964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dustandroses/pseuds/dustandroses
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Abby finds herself lost in sweet memories of the past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Scent of Cedar

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt Notes:** Inspiration for this story taken from the Live Journal Community Tamingthemuse prompt #307: Hope Chest  
>  **Notes:** You can see a picture of a baby quilt made with the Whirlpool pattern [here](http://quilting.about.com/od/quiltpatternsprojects/ss/whirlpool-quilt-pattern.htm).  
>  I labeled this story both Gen and Het because there is implied Het at the end that is somewhat sexually descriptive. I consider it a Gen story, but with the implied Het, I thought I should warn for that as well.

It had been a while since Abby had visited her cedar chest. She pulled it out of the bottom of her closet, brushing her hand across the highly polished wood with a sigh, her head full of memories. Her father had presented it to her on her thirteenth birthday. 

“You're a young woman, now,” he'd signed, hiding his grin as best he could. She knew he was aware of her contempt for most of the traditional roles expected by society. She also knew he was proud of her for her independence and her refusal to be tied down by other people's expectations. Still, tradition said it was his duty to provide her with a Hope Chest, and he'd gone above and beyond to make the most beautiful one he could, to show her just how proud of her he was.

Even before she opened it, she could smell the cedar, the scent sending her back to Louisiana, and the Eastern Red Cedar trees she'd grown up around. She'd watched her father build the chest, knowing it was intended for her. He had strong, expressive hands – hands that told his family how much he cared, even without words. When he'd worked the wood, sanding out the imperfections, fitting the brass hinges and polishing the wood until it shone, she'd known how much he valued her, how important she was to him. 

Abby knew he hadn't cared if she had a traditional family, with a husband and children and a white picket fence. As long as she was happy, that was all that mattered to him. She grinned mischievously, knowing that he'd be surprised by what she kept in her cedar chest these days, but that was okay. He'd be glad to know she used it, and that it made her proud, every time she pulled it out of her closet. 

The same year she'd gotten the chest, her grandmother had finished her quilt. When she'd been twelve, Abby had chosen the pattern from the pieced quilt designs her grandmother had shown her. Granny hadn't been surprised that she'd chosen one with a name like The Whirlpool, and she'd smiled knowingly as Abby picked out her own subdued but beautifully mixed color scheme. Granny had always said Abby had good taste. The quilt was beautiful, and Abby used it whenever she wanted to impress visitors, or she was feeling a little homesick. It always reminded her of family.

Her mother's contribution to the chest had been the delicate lace-trimmed napkins and lace table cloth that her own mother had given her as a young woman. She'd added one piece of her wedding china as well, a reminder to Abby that no matter what lay out there in the world, it was possible to find love, if you looked hard enough. The plate hung on the wall in Abby's dining room, and it never failed to make her smile when she passed it. Home was never far away when her mother's china was nearby.

Glancing at the clock, Abby was surprised to see how much time had passed. Family memories often sent her back home to New Orleans, but she had preparations to make, and as much as she loved them, her family was not invited to this evening's festivities. She opened the lid. Her eyes sparkled with glee as she took in all her toys, and her fingers brushed over one after the other before she finally picked out a black harness that would look just perfect with her thigh-high boots. 

She chose the smaller of her two matte black, anatomically correct dildos. After all, this was Tim's first time catching, and she didn't want to alarm him. The other one was a bit on the _humongous_ side, after all. Abby had to dig through the clothing on bottom to find her dark maroon bustier – the one with the lace. She hadn't worn it in ages, but she thought this would be a good night for it. It was a special night, and one that demanded a soft touch. That ought to do the trick. 

She pushed the chest back into the closet and turned back to her preparations. Abby chuckled as she checked the padded leather restraints fitted on the corners of the bed; tonight was going to be so much fun! Smiling wickedly, she grabbed her camera and slipped it into the drawer in her bedside table. She and Tim would be making plenty of new memories tonight.


End file.
